Silence of the Koopas
by IzziCat
Summary: Mario doubts the legitimacy of Peach's unborn child. Meanwhile, Luigi finds the corpses of mutilated Koopas. Are these things connected? Rated M for violence, gore, and language.


He awoke to her nuzzling into the crook of his arm, still deep in her dreams. Blinking sleep out of his eyes, he shuddered, caught halfway between terror and contentment. He pulled her closer, marveling as he always did at her perfect body, the way her curves locked against him, her blonde hair like a halo.

His hand moved over her side to her huge belly, and he sighed. It was a sound of frustration—any other morning, he would have woken her up with gentle ministrations, but she was too close—and of anticipation. Just a few more days now, the doctor had told them.

Even as he admired her, the details of the nightmare slowly trickled into place. His mouth tasted like blood, and he stealthily pulled away, touching a finger to the inside of his lip. Diluted red. He'd bitten down so hard he'd punched through the skin.

He rolled out of bed and went to the window, wrapping himself in his red bathrobe on the way. The breeze through the screen teased the frayed threads of the robe, tickling him, forcing him to close his eyes, where the nightmare waited to play once more across his eyelids.

The child was a monster. Its crusty arms ended in thick white claws; its hair was fiery red, trailing down to the five distinct spikes poking bloody holes in its back. He couldn't even tell if it was a boy or a girl—it was just a monster, a hybrid, a creature concocted in the womb of his beloved.

He buried his face in his hands. He'd tried so hard not to dwell on the idea, but it came back to him every time another report of Koopa uprisings or uses of dark magic came from the outskirts of the Mushroom Kingdom.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw that she was starting to stir, looking confused but beautiful as she lifted her head and saw him at the window. His heart leapt. _She would never_.

"Morning, love," he said.

She made a drowsy noise and rolled onto her back, grimacing as she helped herself over with both hands on her belly. "Can't wait for this to be over," she said, eyes still closed.

He examined her in profile. Her belly was swollen to the point that he had brought it up as a concern with the doctor, who'd chuckled and said that some women carried high, and Peach was one of them.

_But maybe it's more than just a big baby_. He looked down at his own ample stomach and sighed. _I'm Italian, not a mutant._

"What's wrong, Mar?" She still hadn't really opened her eyes, but as always, she knew he was distressed.

He came back across the room, perched on the edge of the bed. She fumbled for his hand and he let her find it, stroking the spaces between her long, delicate fingers. "Bad dreams again."

Now she came fully awake, scooting back so she could lean against the headboard. Her face was creased with worry he wished he could smooth away, for her sake, for the child's sake.

"Same ones?" she asked softly.

He'd told her he was dreaming about a full-fledged Koopa invasion, and had even made up a few dark details to give his story realism. He nodded. "Nasty stuff."

"Mmm." She pressed her lips together and was silent for a few moments.

He took the time to examine the palm of his hand, the one that wasn't entangled with hers. Scars, callouses, grooves. The hand of a plumber and a warrior. He closed his eyes and let the dreams play on repeat, dwelling on them.

"There's more to it than that," Peach said, breaking into his thoughts.

As she said it, the vision grew stronger: he could no longer see the child, but had the distinct feeling he was traveling back in time to months before, the conception itself, the monstrous Bowser drooling lecherously as he reached for Peach's tiny waist, the sounds they made echoing against the castle's stone walls.

He jerked free, gasping as if he'd just broken the surface of a lake. He leaped to his feet and whirled at her. "Don't lie to me." His hand was shaking as he pointed at her. "Tell me the truth."

Peach's messy hair fell in disarray around her wide eyes. "I will! I will, I promise! Mario, please, I can't read your mind, don't—"

"Did you fuck him?" He could hear his voice roaring in his own ears, mimicking the sound of the blood that rushed to his head. "Did you fuck Bowser?"

"God, no!" Now _she_ was screaming, and instead of fear, her eyes flashed with anger and hurt. "Really? Is this how you're gonna wake me up? Good morning, Peach, let me shit on your good mood." She folded her arms and shook her head, her face as pink as her nightgown. "The one time I don't feel like ass in this entire third trimester, and this is what I get."

She'd smashed his anger with a super hammer. He pitched forward onto the bed, stifling a sob. "I'm sorry," he muttered into the rumpled sheets. "I'm a fucking idiot."

"Yeah, you kinda are."

There was the barest hint of mercy in his voice, and he clung to it. "Forgive me?"

"It's not that easy." He heard her grunt as she slid off the bed. "Get me my damn slippers, and we'll take it from there."

Mario hissed his relief through his teeth, then slithered off the bed to look beneath it for her fuzzy slippers.

Still, a tiny voice whispered dissent in the back of his mind.

He made her toast and eggs, and they sat in the sunny kitchen, facing one another but not speaking. Peach kept one hand on her belly while she ate. Mario kept his hands to himself.

They both jumped when the frantic knocking started. He dashed across the house and flung open the door.

Green overall stained with blood, eyes sunken and haunted, Luigi looked like hell. Mario opened his mouth to tell his brother that when he caught a glimpse inside the bag Luigi was dragging behind him. His words came out as a stifled cry instead.

"Peach here?" Luigi said quickly, and at Mario's nod, he motioned for his brother to come outside. Mario shot a glance over his shoulder. Peach had gotten to her feet and was wobbling her way to the kitchen doorway.

"Stay there, babe, it's just Luigi."

"Oh." Peach sounded vaguely disappointed. "Is everything okay?"

"We got it," Mario said, and shut the door before she could press the issue.

Once they were both standing in the lee of the shed in his backyard, Mario steeled himself and peered into the sack again. His stomach turned. The body of a Koopa had been torn apart and put back together, limbs hastily sewn to sockets they didn't belong in. Its jaw flapped where one wing had been, while the other—feathers tattered and blood-stained—lewdly dangled at the crotch.

"God," Mario managed, pulling his shirt up over his face.

"Third one this week," Luigi said grimly. "Suddenly. No explanation or suspects. I'm not okay with this."

The gore was almost hypnotic. Mario didn't realize he was reaching for the corpse until his brother slapped his hand away. "Oy. Evidence."

"Sorry," he said quickly, massaging his wrist. "No leads at all?"

"Nope." Luigi let the word hang in the air for a long moment, then reached down and sealed up the sack, tying it closed with a piece of rope. "Not even a goddamn footprint."

"Or pawprint," Mario said.

Luigi raised an eyebrow. "Don't think something with paws could have done that stitching. Sick as it is, that's quality work. Everything's staying together."

Mario kept staring at the bag. It reminded him of his dream, of how monsters lurked just out of sight in his life. He shivered. "We've got some eggs leftover."

"I'm starving." Luigi hefted the sack and indicated the shed. "Can I keep it in here for now?"

"Guesso." Mario undid the latch and watched his brother swing the bag into the center of the messy little shed. It made a wet crunching noise where it fell.

Luigi closed the door and locked it, shaking his head. "You know the worst thing about all this?"

"Hmmm?"

"I have to talk to goddamn Koopas."


End file.
